The Darkness Holds No Secrets
by SerenLyall
Summary: Caught between reality and dreaming, Sam is forced to live her worst fears. But not all is what it seems.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer:** Stargate SG-1, Jack O'Neill, Samantha Carter, Daniel Jackson, Teal'c, Janet Fraiser, and no other ideas or such herein that are tied in any way to Stargate are mine. Only the ideas, Deimon, and actual words on paper do I take credit for. No money was made off of this writing piece, merely a cathartic experience.

**Rating:** Teen. VERY upper teen. GRAPHIC violence and torture in later chapters. You have been warned.

**Category:** Horror/Angst

**Summary:** Caught between reality and dreaming, Sam is forced to live her worst fears. But not all is what it seems.

**Time frame:** early season one. Before Nox, but Janet's around. Pick your date in between.

**A/N:** ...to any and all who read my other writings...please accept this apology. There really is no excuse for doing NOTHING for going on two months (or is it more? I really didn't have the heart to check), and then the first thing you do is come out with a brand new story. This isn't too very long, though, and I promise you all, it is COMPLETELY done (except for a few last-minute checkovers before posting). So no waiting for any ridiculous amount of time before it's finished.

The truth of the matter is that I've been having one of the worst writers blocks I have ever experienced. Coupled with the fact that I've been having more and more nightmares again, this is just kinda what came to be. I generally use my writings as an outlet for my thoughts and feelings (I'm not alone in doing that, am I?), and I needed a place to get this all out. So now you all have a tiny little peek into my mind. Look if you dare. You've been warned. The truth of the matter is that I was actually considering posting this as a Mature, but decided against it at the last second, deeming it JUST mild enough to come over as a Teen (rated higher for later chapters. This first one's really very mild). Oh, and both of the final two chapters are both significantly longer. It's not only like...4000 words long. :P

The next chapter will be posted later today/tomorrow (depending on how you look at it). Reviews are, of course, welcome (much like chocolate on Easter...oh wait...). But more importantly, I hope you enjoy this.

.

The Darkness Holds No Secrets

Chapter 1

Slowly, she began to come to consciousness. It was an almost familiar feeling, the slow peeling away of darkness to reveal a shadowy gray. The pain followed – sometimes it was a throbbing, sometimes aching, and sometimes a sharp, dizzying feeling. This time it was just a dull ache that permeated her entire skull, compressing her mind until she felt as if she were suffocating.

Sam forced open her eyes, preparing herself for a sudden wash of light. To her surprise, none came, and her eyes opened to only more darkness. Where was she? What had happened? A thousand thoughts filtered through her mind one after the other, each succeeding one becoming more and more frantic.

And then her mind lit on a truly terrifying question. Was she blind? Was that why there was no light to behold?

Panic began to trickle through her. If she was blind, what would happen to her? How would she be able to stay on SG-1? How could she continue to even work at the SGC? She fought to remain in control, forcing herself to stay calm and assess the situation.

She tried to uncoil from the painful fetal position she had awoken to. Instead, she found that she was tied hand and foot, with the two ropes twined together.

Slowly, methodically, she began to work her fingers into the many knots holding her hands tightly bound. Whoever had tied them wasn't particularly skilled at knot-making, she decided, as she felt the ropes begin to give way after only a few minutes of careful prodding.

Although it was easy enough to work the ropes loose enough to slip her hands through the nooses, they still left a ragged burn around both of her wrists. She felt blood oozing out of raw scrapes and pulled a wry grimace, hating the feeling almost as much as actually being tied. Next she began to work on the ropes binding her feet. These came away even easier. Sam shook her head, amused more than amazed at how easily she had been able to get free.

Lying perfectly still, Sam closed her eyes, trying to get her bearings. Now that she was free, should be her next move? The faint fear from before wiggled into her thoughts. If she was blind…The darkness surrounding her felt more artificial rather than natural, as if someone had simply turned out the lights. There was a simple enough way to find out for sure. Fumbling with her left hand, Sam sought for the small button on her watch that would light up the watch face. She finally found it, and a split second later an indigo blue light pierced the darkness.

Sam dropped her head ungracefully back to the stone ground, exhaling audibly with relief. She hadn't realized until then how afraid she was that she had somehow been blinded. She pressed her hands to her face, listening to her breathing, a small smile dancing across her lips.

She was still trapped in who knows where, though, in complete darkness, and without even an inkling of where she was or why she was there. The last thing she could remember was being on an average, exploratory mission on P4S-671. Of course, that didn't particularly signify any sort of reassurance…how many of SG-1's recon missions had gone awry in some way or another out of the however many they had had thus far.

"Alright, Carter, figure this out. What do you do now?" her voice was empty and hollow, echoing around the confined space eerily. Maybe talking out loud to herself wasn't the best idea in the world. But she'd started, and for some reason, at the same time that it slightly set her on hedge, it also reassured her. Told her that she was still alive, still functioning. "Now try to find a way out of this place."

She rolled over onto her stomach and wriggled forward, stretching one hand out in front of her to feel her way, and gritting her teeth against the pain of the rope burn dragging against rough stone. She'd hardly moved three feet when her fingertips rammed into a stone wall. She pulled her hand back and shook her tingling fingers gently, gritting her teeth as the pain flared for a second before dying away and receding back to a simple throb.

Trailing her fingers along the wall, Sam inched her way sideways, praying that there would be an opening of some sort. She highly doubted it, but it was always worth a shot. I mean, how stupid would she look if her teammates (or even worse, a group of Marines) came to rescue her and found her sitting in a room with an unlocked door or trapdoor through which she could have gotten herself out?

Eventually she fell back to the ground, her body quivering with exhaustion and her legs seizing up in painful cramps. She had no idea how long she had spent circling the space that she was trapped in, but she knew that she had been all of the way around it at least three times. After the first hour or so, she had regained enough wits to use the discarded ropes as markers, so she would at least know when she had made a full circuit. Her efforts had given her nothing but fingers rubbed raw and cramping legs and shoulders.

Her mind drifted in and out of semi-consciousness as she lay, one side pressed up against one of the walls of her prison. She strained to remember what had happened to her, how she had managed to find herself in this predicament. If she was being completely honest with herself, something about this whole situation felt odd; different somehow. No matter how hard she tried, though, she couldn't quite put her finger on what it was.

At some point, she fell asleep, her breathing evening out as her mind slipped into oblivion.

-sSs-

_She's bouncing up and down, like she's being carried by someone running. She fights to open her eyes but they feel heavy, as if her eyelids are being held shut with an adhesive. She tries to open her mouth but only an indistinguishable burble gurgles from her throat._

"_O'Neill!" The voice is near, emitting from somewhere above her head. She can feel the something solid that's pressing against her shoulder thrumming as well, as if whatever is carrying her is also responsible for the voicing the word. But what could that word have meant, she doesn't know. And somehow, the voice sounded odd. In what way, she isn't able to say._

_Someone else nears her, the scent of soap, aftershave, and open air preceding him. Somehow the scent makes her feel safe, although at the same time a little anxious and nervous._

"_Teal'c?" The voices sounds like the other one – hollow, echoing, distant, and yet close by._

"_I believe she is awakening." There. The movement in the chest by her shoulder._

_She is moving. Something hard presses against her back, or maybe she is being pressed into something; she really isn't sure which. Footsteps crunch toward her; she can feel them vibrating in the ground. _

_One of them kneels beside her, touching her softly on the cheek. The very brush of his fingers hurts. It feels as if they are searing her flesh. _

_A shout of surprise, of pain, forces its way from between her locked jaws, her eyes flying open with a dizzying abruptness. Light pours in for a second, washing her, filling her, burning her._

_And then the darkness takes her once again._

-sSs-


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N****:** Well, here's installment two. I'm quite proud of myself...it's all edited and uploaded the very next day! Only two more chapters to go after this! (I was wrong in my calculations last night/this morning. When I said there would be 3 chapters...well, I was wrong. There will be 4.) I'd like to just take this opportunity to give a thanks to everyone who has read, and an even bigger thanks to those of you who have added the story to their Alerts and Favorites, and especially those of you who have reviewed (thanks...again). Even though I've been writing here for almost a year now, every time I get an email in my inbox telling me one of the aforementioned things, I feel like it's Christmas morning. So thank you again to everyone. That being said, I hope you all enjoy this next chapter!

.

Chapter 2

Sam awoke violently, jerking upright as if attempting to somehow jump out of her dream. Once again her head slammed painfully into the ceiling of her prison and she fell back to the ground moaning softly. Her headache, which had been consistently remaining at the level of a mild ache, flared into a dull roar. She squeezed her eyes shut tightly, fighting to master the pain and the lingering shock of the dream.

It had terrified her, the dream. She had no idea why, but as she struggled to remember the details, she was filled with a numbing paralysis – an unshakable fear. Finally she gave up trying to pinpoint the feeling exactly, blinking blearily as she brought herself back to reality.

It took her a few seconds to realize that something was different. Her brow furrowed, her mind unable to pick out what exactly had changed. She touched the wall unsteadily and attempted to rub some of the drying blood off of her fingertips. It was ghostly dark against the paleness of her hand

Wait. That was it.

Her stomach lurched uncomfortably as the realization began to sink in. Instead of unending darkness, her prison was now a murky gray. She could make out the vague, blurry outline of her arm pressed against the wall, as well as the shadow of her blood on her pale hand.

What had changed?

But she already knew the answer.

She lay flat on her back and took a steadying breath. Then, with a steady purpose, she lifted her feet until they were solidly against the ceiling above her. She pushed with all her strength.

For a few seconds nothing happened. Then something groaned, and the top began to move. A line of light began to grow along one of the junctions of wall and lid, and it continued to grow as Sam pushed. With one final creak, the lid suddenly slid from the top of the crate and fell to the ground with a loud crash.

Sam held her breath, waiting for someone to come running at the loud noise. Nothing happened.

Sam stood up slowly, grabbing onto the edge of the crate to steady herself. Her legs nearly buckled, her muscles protesting loudly at their prolong period of inactivity and being forced into an unnatural position.

Sam half staggered, half fell out of the container, landing on the floor hard. She gritted her teeth and began to massage her calves, dismayed at the large knots she found. Hot tears pricked the corners of her eyes as her legs burned, the feeling of a thousand needles searing her body rushing through her.

She gasped, fighting doggedly through the pain. Slowly, achingly slowly, her muscles began to relax, the pain fading. By the time she felt confident enough to attempt standing again, she felt drained. Determined, though, she grabbed onto the lip of the container and dragged herself upright. This time her legs held her steady.

She looked down on her former prison, looking it over carefully. Realization struck her, and for a second, she thought she was going to be sick.

It wasn't a crate or a container as she had thought before.

It was a coffin.

She let go of the coffin as if the very thing had burned her. Staggering away from it, she grabbed onto the wall for support instead, wanting to get as far away from it as possible. Had whoever placed her in there believed she would actually die inside? If so, why hadn't they just gone ahead and buried her.

She was shaking, she realized. She took a deep breath and pressed the palms of her hands against her eyes.

_Calm down_ she ordered herself. _Calm. Down. You are a full grown woman. You're a soldier. You've been through more frightening things than this before. So start acting like it!_

She opened her eyes, this time looking at the coffin with a calculating gaze. It was larger than any coffin she had seen before, and it vaguely reminded her of a tomb in which a Pharaoh would have been buried in.

_Goa'uld?_ she wondered, but then brushed the thought aside. The only thing that truly mattered was getting out, not the whys and wherefores of her situation.

Her gaze swept the room, taking in every detail. The walls were made of a beige stone, each of the blocks fit together with careful precision. Torches were bracketed to the walls – one in the middle of each. The only furniture in the room was the coffin that she had been trapped inside of.

A door stood a few feet to her left and directly in front of the coffin, and Sam vaguely wondered why she hadn't noticed it before. Had she truly been that afraid and preoccupied? Somehow, her analytical mind doubted it. If she had been that afraid, her first thought would have been to get as far away from her currently location as possible, and a door would have been her first target. But at the same time, that would mean that the door had somehow appeared between the time that she had staggered out of her prison and now.

She shook her mind. Maybe she was going crazy. It was a viable option.

There was really only one thing for her to do, unless she wanted to stand in this room for who knows how long, waiting for someone – or something – to walk in on her. She clenched her hands into fists and stepped towards it, pulling at the ring that served as the handle. It twisted in her grip and the door swung open, the hinges protesting squeakily.

The wood of the door scuffed against the stone floor, making it difficult to open very far. With one final tug, Sam gave up on opening it any farther and slipped through the narrow crack between the door frame and the door.

She found herself in a long hallway, the walls and floor made of the same stone as that of the room. Torches flickered uneasily in random intervals, leaving some places almost as bright as daylight, while others were lost in murky shadow. Overall it gave the entire place an eerie, unearthly, and edgy feeling.

Feeling a little nervous, Sam stepped away from the door. Her booted feet echoed around the hallway, and dust swirled around her ankles as her shuffling disturbed the nearly invisible flakes. The air smelled dusty and dry, as if no one had stepped foot in the hallway for years. But that didn't make sense…she had to have been put in the room by someone, and there were no other doors leading into it.

She was about five yards down the hallway when she heard a creak and a groan. She whirled, her nerves already on edge. Her eyes went wide when she saw the door swinging shut, the latch falling into place with a _click_.

Something was definitely not right with this place, she decided, taking a step backward and away from the seemingly possessed door. The logical portion of her brain – the scientist inside of her – told her that there was a logical explanation for what had just happened: a shifting of the ground, air pressure, or maybe even mechanics. But at the same time, an annoying little voice in the back of her mind whispered of something else, something slightly more sinister. She couldn't help but recall to mind the stale scent that had filled the coffin. The scent of death, she suddenly realized.

She took another step down the hall, away from the door. Something tickled her leg and she jumped, a startled cry leaping from her lips as she imagined a ghostly hand grasping at her ankle. She laughed nervously at her own folly, seeing the cloud of disturbed dust that wafted about her legs before it began to settle again.

She turned, facing down the ancient corridor, the door to her back. Although a shadowy, clingy fear grasped at her heart, she refused to listen to it. It was either go back to the empty room, stay still and let her fear get the better of her, or move forward and figure out what was going on. She decided to go with the last option, knowing full well that she would feel better as long as she had control of the situation.

She took a few tentative steps forward, and when nothing reached out of the wall to grab her and leech out her soul, she sighed, aggravated and annoyed that she had allowed herself such weakness. She was acting like a foolish cadet, afraid of her own shadow.

The silence pressed in on her, muffling her footsteps and even her own breath. She could still hear the air whooshing in and out of her lungs, and yet with each passing moment, it was as if it became quieter and quieter, more suppressed. At the same time, though, she could hear her heart pounding a little louder with each step, a sure sign her fear was once again mounting.

"Stop," she chided herself sharply, smacking her other arm with her right hand. "Stop it! If you keep letting yourself think like this, you won't be able to keep walking, let alone think straight."

She almost didn't hear the sound of the door opening once more over the sound of her own voice. Almost.

Sam froze, listening intensely, her ears tuned for any strange sound. She had been right, the door was opening again. Or was it closing? She turned around abruptly, her feet sending a spray of dust high into the air. She couldn't see the door, she realized. The corridor stretched endlessly behind her, ending in dark shadow. She hadn't realized she'd come so far.

The door closed with a boom, and silence filled the hall again.

Then came a whisper. A faint, tickling flow of air began to trickle down the hallway, disturbing the dust as it passed. When it reached Sam, it seemed to stop for a second, twining between her feet like a cat, spiraling up her legs as if searching for something. Chills raced up and down her spine as the cold air found its way through her boots and over her feet and then up against her legs. Somehow, when it touched her, the air felt cold, dead. It was unnerving.

Sam took a step back, trying to shake the feeling away, but found she was unable to do so. Her legs felt cold, numb, and sluggish.

The rush of air began to grow. After only a few seconds it was a strong wind that blew against Sam, stealing the breath from her. Dust swirled through the air, obstructing her vision. She coughed, dust blowing into her mouth and nose, choking her. When she straightened, her eyes watering, she felt the rest of her body go numb.

It looked as if a dark entity was hurtling toward her on the wings of the wind. As it passed each torch, the flames were extinguished – drawn in, absorbed, and squashed by the darkness. A keening shriek pierced the wind, something a part of, and yet separate from the rush of the air.

Sam jerked her attention away from the thing rushing down the hallway, forcing herself to take first one step, then another. She couldn't allow her fear to take control of her. She had to push through it. She had to run.

So run she did. She turned and broke into first a staggering trot, which then slowly picked up speed until she was in a full out sprint. The dust choked her, threatened to suffocate her, but she refused to stop to cough. Her eyes watered, both from the tiny particles as well as the growing wind, and she furiously dashed the liquid from her lids. She pushed herself as hard and fast as she could, ignoring the shooting stab of pain that began to grow in her side, as well as her ragged breathing. She had to keep going. She couldn't slow.

The other thing was faster. She could hear it slowly gaining on her, the shriek morphing into a howl as it drew closer. No matter how fast she ran, no matter how far, it simply drew ever closer to her in the never-ending hallway.

Sam started to frantically look up and down the corridor, searching for a door, an archway or tunnel, or even just a break in the unbroken stone walls. There was nothing. Only flickering shadow, swirling dust, and keening wind. That and the howl; the ever pursuing howl.

The lip of one of the stones in the floor caught Sam's boot and she sprawled forward, scraping her cheek against the rough stone. She could feel tiny beads of blood forming in the tiny gashes in her skin as she picked herself up, the breath knocked from her body. She turned, realizing that there would be no way for her to outrun whatever was chasing her, especially now. At the same time, she realized she really had had no chance to begin with.

Within seconds the thing was upon her, whirling around her in a mass of darkness. Sam stood straight and tall, battling to keep her breathing even and her fear controlled. Maybe, if she could show this thing that she wasn't afraid of it, it would leave her be.

The darkness condensed around her and it billowed, as if wind were blowing through clouds. The howl that had hunted her grew deeper until it was a laugh – a hollow, echoing chuckle. Chills raced down Sam's spine and she couldn't suppress the goose bumps that rippled along her arms and shoulders.

"I'm not afraid of you!" she yelled defiantly, balling her hands into fists.

Two eyes winked into existence in the midst of the cloud of darkness, its pupils slit vertically like a cat's, and its irises gleamed blood red shot through with black.

"Oh, but you are," the thing laughed. And then it consumed her.

Wind howled around her, clutching at her, tearing at her. The darkness pressed in on her, punching holes through her body and soul and setting her very blood on fire. She was drowning; drowning in a sea of shadow and wind.

She screamed.

-sSs-

"_Jack!" the voice sounds frantic, afraid. "Jack!"_

"_Daniel, what is it?" another voice barks. It's one of the ones from before – the man named O'Neill. "Calm down, what's going on?"_

"_It's Sam. She just started…" the other man's voice falls away as O'Neill hurries toward the younger man and her. _

_It feels like molten fire is pouring through her body, burning her alive. She thrashes, some primal part of her mind believing that by beating her body against the ground she can alleviate the burning._

"_Teal'c!" That's O'Neill. "Help me hold her down. Daniel, we need more water. We have to wash it again." His voice is cold, commanding. Something grabs her, holds her arms and legs. Again, the simple touch of something against her skin sends needles through her, and she wants to scream._

"_Jack, we have to take it out." Daniel. _

"_No Daniel," O'Neill replies curtly, his voice strained. "We don't know what it will do. Just wash it already," he grunts._

_She can sense that Daniel wants to argue. But he doesn't. Instead, he kneels beside her, his breath washing over her body as he leans precariously across her. Something is uncapped._

_And then a splashing cold washes over her. All she can feel is coldness. How can fire feel so cold? How can flame freeze you? She doesn't know. She can't care._

_Again, she slips into darkness._

-sSs-


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N****:** Well, here we are with chapter 3. I gotta say, the last chapter took a very different path from what I had originally intended...for those of you who've read some of my other works, you might also notice that it took a different train of thought than I usually go down. That being said, the last two chapters, again, change courses a little bit...you'll understand what I mean. Again, I'd like to say a HUGE thank you to everyone who has taken the time to read, and I'd especially like to send my gratitude to those of you who have been reading this from day one.

Just to let you all know, I'll be gone for the rest of the week in Ohio because my colorguard is competing in the national competition being held there. Don't worry, the final chapter will be uploaded tomorrow (my best friend, (who goes by Alexmichele here abouts) has offered to upload it for me). I will be replying to any and all reviews, although it may take me a while because I'll be doing it from my phone.

I hope you all enjoy reading chapter 3, and I'd love it if you'd take the time to drop a few words my way on your way out. Thanks!

.

Chapter 3

Her eyes slowly fluttered open, beige dust clinging to her lashes. She took a tentative breath and immediately began to cough, her entire body shaking violently with the intensity of the spasms. She finally quieted, her breathing ragged as she struggled to get in enough oxygen.

Slowly, painfully, she rolled onto her side, grunting with pain as her back pressed into something sharp. With a grimace she forced herself to sit up straight, ignoring the tingle in her legs and fingers as the blood once again began to circulate. The pain was nothing compared to what she had left the coffin with.

Memory washed over her and she leapt to her feet, adrenaline pouring through her body. What had happened? How was she even still alive? Last she could remember she was standing in the midst of a whirling black cloud, two malevolent red eyes staring at her.

She quickly assessed her condition – head throbbing painfully, so possibly a concussion; wrists stinging painfully from the rope burns; fingers raw; scraped cheek; bruised back. Nothing too bad, and most certainly nothing to the extent of what she had been experiencing the moments before she had passed out.

Self-inventory complete, Sam took stock of her surroundings. To her surprise, she was no longer in the endless corridor. Instead she found herself in a circular room that was approximately twenty feet in diameter, with the floor and walls showing the same color of stone that formed the walls of both the room in which she had awoken in, as well as the hallway. Here, though, the cracks between the stones were barely discernible and the stones were smooth, as if they had been worn into a sheer surface by the tramping of many feet, or a thousand years of running water. A fire burned in a shallow hollow in the center of the room, the flames illuminating the ceiling a couple hundred feet above. Circular holes leading to passages were placed in even spacing around the room a few feet below the ceiling, and a white, silver material lined the mouth of each of the tunnels. There were no doors or trapdoors that Sam could see, although, because of her previous experience, she wasn't entirely sure that there weren't any.

There was no sound other than the crackling and popping of the fire in the center of the room, and for that Sam was thankful. She wouldn't have admitted it to anyone, even herself, but she had been afraid that, when she stopped to listen carefully, she'd pick up the faint, lingering sounds of wind whispering through the tunnels.

Shivering slightly, Sam made her way toward the wall, wrapping her arms around her chest as she did. She leaned her back against the stones and slid down to the floor, rubbing her hands up and down her bare arms. It was only then that she realized she was missing her jacket. Last she had known she had still been wearing it. Then again, last she knew she was in the middle of an endless hallway with some wind creature practically on top of her, which felt as if it were tearing her apart.

With nothing else to do, Sam watched the flickering flames. She puzzled for a while about the possible, if not probable reasons that the fire wasn't giving off any heat, but in the end she fell into a stupor, hypnotized by the shifting, undulating embers buried at the base of the flames. Later she would have no guess as to how long she simply sat there, watching the fire. However long it was, it was _too_ long.

Something began to click above Sam's head, a thick, dark red thing creeping out of one of the holes that lined the top of the room. It crept out of the dark hole, each of its legs emerging one by one. Finally its body followed, the thick, hairy abdomen the size of a small dog squeezing out of the darkness until it was clinging precariously over the mouth of the tunnel, each of its eight legs splayed around it, fastened to the shining, silvery substance. It clicked again, following it with a _buzz_. Slowly, cautiously, another set of legs began to creep from another of the tunnels, this one a darker shade of red bordering on brown.

Sam sat against the wall, her head tilted back and her eyes glazed over as she watched the flames. She hadn't heard the first few clicks, nor the slight squelching sound of the creature as it moved its hooked feet on the sticky web. She did hear the buzz though.

Startled, Sam sat up and away from the wall, looking distractedly around the room. At first all she could see was dancing shadows and flickering lights, her eyes unaccustomed to looking at anything but searing light.

As her eyesight readjusted to the normal world, however, she began to make out shadowed, blurry forms of creatures moving along the ceiling. Even as she gazed upward she saw something silvery and almost translucent shoot across the ceiling until it was snatched out of the air by a thin leg. A few seconds later the substance turned milky white, joining a hundred other strands of the same material. She didn't remember seeing them when she'd first looked up at the ceiling.

Sam could only watch in frozen horror as a very large something detached itself from the wall and began to cautiously move across the ceiling. She watched dumbly as it continued to move forward, revealing more and more of its body as it did so. It stopped in the very center, its eight legs braced against the web. It reared back and something white and sticky seemed to jump from its middle to attach itself to the ceiling. The creature then released the ceiling with its remaining legs and curled them up above its stomach.

With that, it began to lower itself toward the ground, directly above the flames.

In her peripheral vision, Sam suddenly caught the seething movement of a thousand limbs all around the tops of the walls. And then she realized what she was seeing. One word sprang into her mind and took root there, leaving the rest of her mind completely blank.

Spider.

Sam scrambled frantically away from the wall as the spiders began to creep downward, a few of them detaching from the rest of the swarm to lower themselves from webs on the ceiling like the first. As she stood, she realized that, within seconds, she would be completely surrounded by a massive horde of gigantic spiders.

The first spider landed on the ground, causing the entire room to shake. Its legs were spread around the fire, keeping its body above the reach of the flame. Light spilled out from beneath the hulking shadow, giving the dark red creature a hellish look. Its eyes glittered like embers while the rest of its back hovered in deep shadow.

There was nowhere for her to run. No place for her to hide. She was in an empty room full of a hundred spiders. They swarmed down the walls, jumping to the floor and scuttling toward her, their pincers clicking and clacking menacingly. Within seconds, she was completely surrounded.

One of the spiders reared up and shot a glob of web toward Sam. She reacted instinctively, ducking to one side. She bumped into one of the spiders, and the next thing she knew she was flying through the air, her shoulder burning from where the spider had hit her. She crashed into the stone floor, the spiders scuttling out of the way of her body.

She struggled to regain her feet, wondering if, should she run at them, some of the spiders would give way. Maybe she would be able to get to one of the walls and somehow she would be able to fend the arachnids off.

Something loomed over her, and before she could move, she felt something warm and sticky fall across her legs, then her torso. A spider leg reached down and plucked her from the ground, rolling the web tightly around her. Another spider reared up much like the first and sprayed a thinner, stickier web toward her. At the last second she managed to turn her face away, and the web splashed across her shoulders and back. The spider holding her began to wrap again, and within seconds, she found that she couldn't move. The only part of her body left out of the spider's web was her neck, upper shoulders, and head.

Some primal instinct kicked in. She couldn't allow herself to be caught and held like this – unable to move, and unable to protect herself. The creatures would be able to do with her what they willed, and she would be able to do nothing to stop them. She fought, twisting and writhing as much as she could in her bindings, a scream of pure terror rising like bile in her throat.

She was falling, the ground rushing up to meet her, and there was nothing she could do to break her fall. She slammed into the stones and rolled, the hardened web the only thing that saved her from breaking her neck. Still, she fought, although she knew it pointless. She couldn't even kick or wiggle her fingers, let alone work her arms free.

A hissing neared her, and then a smaller spider raced up and over her legs. It looked down at her with its manifold eyes, its pincers clicking. Two tiny tips topped the black creature's pincers, unlike the other, larger creatures, and they glistened. They were stingers, Sam realized.

This time, she truly did scream. Her throat felt raw and bloody as her terrified shriek filled the spider swarmed room. Slowly, in sick parody of a lover's caress, the small black spider lowered its body until it was just below her chin. It reared back, and struck.

She felt the stingers pierce her neck, felt them sink into her flesh. She could feel the venom flowing into her body, piercing it like a thousand white-hot knives. But now her scream was dead.

She felt herself sinking into something – a pool of liquid that clung to her skin, filled her nose and mouth. It swallowed her whole. It wasn't until she had sunk completely under the fluid, her eyes open to opaque darkness that she realized what it was. It was blood.

She blessedly knew no more.

-sSs-

_Someone else is carrying her this time. She can feel it in the way he moves, in his stride. He's panicking, she also realizes. She can feel his heard thudding so hard in his chest that it hurts her too. She wants to comfort him, to tell him to stop running, but she can't. She's bound in an empty void, an abyss of pure air. She can't move, can't breathe. And yet, for some reason, she doesn't panic either. _

_She's at peace. The pain has faded away, leaving only an empty shell behind. Nothing matters._

"_Dammit Daniel, hurry up!" It's O'Neill again. "Get the Gate open!" She can feel his chest thrumming with vibrations as he shouts, and can hear the panic in his voice. She tries to smile at him, to reassure him that it's okay. That he should just let her go. That she's happy. But she can't._

_And then he looks down at her. It's as if he doesn't realize that she can see him, even though her eyes are open. Brown eyes lock with glazed blue, and she's startled to see such emotion running rampant across the older man's face._

"_Carter, hold on. That's an order, ya'hear?" He looks worried. Anxious. Afraid. She's never seen him afraid before. She feels his grip tighten around her, his fingers digging into her side. "Don't die on me, 'kay?" he says gruffly – pleads, she realizes. He's pleading with her. "Just hold on."_

_A whooshing sound cuts off his last words, and then she vaguely registers a faint beeping sound._

"_Okay, we're set." That's Daniel._

_O'Neill starts running with her. He jumps up a few steps and then stops for a split second. He glances down at her and his gaze hardens. _

"_Hold on. You're almost home," he says. _

_She doesn't know why, but she can't refuse him. She can't explain it, but she knows she can't let go like she wanted to. She has to stay. She has to hold on._

_Coldness engulfs her, pulling at her._

-sSs-


	4. Chapter 4

(A quick Author's Note before I had to leave this morning)...**A/N:** Well here we are, having come to the end. One more HUGE thanks to everyone who's read, especially those who have stuck with it these last four days. Also, my extreme gratitude goes to those who have reviewed and/or favorited and/or alerted this story. It really makes me very pleased to realize that it's been so well received. So thanks again.

Also, a huge thanks to Alexmichele who offered to post this for me, since I couldn't get on tonight to actually put this chapter up :). Love you seler' nin.

Just one more thing I'd like to mention... The fic "Under Fire" by Strix varia really inspired me. I read it a good many months ago, but the story opened up a whole new layer to the Stargate world that hadn't ever really crossed my mind before - that of how hard it must have been for Sam to feel like she was 'accepted' by the rest of the team, but particularly Jack - and it's stuck with me this whole time. Because of that inspiration, I added in a little thread that ties off at the end. It's simple, and not really that important, and I'm not sure how obvious it is...but it's there. So thanks Strix for all of the inspiration, and for opening that new train of thought for me.

Hope you all enjoy this final chapter, and I would _love_ it if you'd drop a quick few words on your way out. Thanks, and happy reading!

.

Chapter 4

She couldn't move, at least nothing below her neck. She slowly returned to consciousness, her head dangling down, her chin resting against her sternum. Her throat felt raw and it stung every time she swallowed, reminding her all too vividly of what had transpired just before her last lapse into darkness. It felt as if two hot pokers had been jabbed into the skin on her neck just below her jaw directly over the vein, and she could feel a faint, continued trickle of blood as it oozed from the punctures.

She slowly, achingly, lifted her head. It felt as heavy as a leaden bowling ball and throbbed agonizingly with each heartbeat. She blinked blearily, trying to sift her grainy vision into a clearer picture.

As she looked around, she took in as much detail as she could. She was in a large cavern, the far side indistinguishable from dusky shadow. The walls were made of the same creamy beige as before, only in many places the rock was eaten away in large chunks, as if some very corrosive acid had been sprayed throughout the entire cave. Webs gleamed in many of the hollows, and Sam could vaguely make out black and dark red blobs moving lethargically across the pearly fibers.

Sam looked down and discovered that her feet were a good three feet off of the nearest ledge. She looked frantically up, down, and to either side of her, and finally came to the realization that she was, indeed, fastened to a web, with both of her hands and her legs stuck firmly to the substance spread eagle style. She tried to wriggle free but it was to no avail. She was as tightly bound as ever before.

How long would it be until the spiders decided that their dinner was tenderized enough? Sam mused morbidly. Did these spiders even liquefy their prey and then suck out their innards, or did they simply strip the flesh off of the bones and the suck out the marrow? Or did they do neither, but instead had captured her for some other, more sinister reason. She honestly didn't really want to find out.

Her head began to droop lower and lower, the powerful poison that had been injected into her body beginning to take its toll. Her entire body ached and burned, and she felt as if a thousand nettles were burning into her blood. Or perhaps it was a thousand ants burrowing under her fingernails and into her skin. She was weak, unable to even hold her head up straight. Her vision was swimming, and everything acquired a certain washed out feeling to it. Colors bled from one thing to another until it looked like everything had a glowing trail of color surrounding it.

Then, it felt as if something changed. Sam looked up blearily, barely finding enough willpower to even lift her head so she could look around. Something had indeed changed, she saw. Someone was standing on the ledge in front of her, his head even with her neck.

He was tall, even for a man, and he was lithe and skinny. His hands were forced deep within the pockets of his breeches and he was gazing up at her. A deep shadow rested over his eyes and nose, the cusp of the hood he was wearing dropping to hide his forehead. Only his mouth was discernible. He smiled at her, revealing perfectly aligned and gleaming white teeth.

"Hello Samantha," he drawled carefully, his words precise and his tone sounding well-educated.

Somewhere deep within her, Sam drew on her last reserves of strength.

"Who are you?" she croaked.

The man's smile grew a little bigger and with only a second's hesitation he replied, "Deimos." He withdrew his left hand from its pocket and lifted it to her cheek, allowing the long, thin fingers to trail along her cheek. Sam jerked her head back, glaring as best as she could at the stranger.

Deimos simply chuckled and let his hand drop. "So much fire," he whispered as if to himself. "But every fire must be quenched before it can get out of hand," he continued and looked up at her sharply.

"What are you doing here?" Sam rasped, and coughed a little at the end of the sentence. Her chest ached horribly, and she was finding it more and more difficult to find the energy to breathe.

"Why, to take you away from here," Deimos replied. His smile was gone.

"You mean you're here to save me?" Sam asked, incredulity giving her voice a sense of normality.

"It depends on your definition of saving," Deimos answered. A smile once again began to grow on his lips, although this time it was different. This time it was colder, hungrier. It seemed to Sam that it was the smile of a predator about to make a kill.

"No thanks. I'm fine here," Sam started to say, but before she was able to get the first two words out, it was as if the world around her was melting.

Colors blurred together and ran down, mixing and mingling until they became indistinguishable from one another. The world began to revolve, spinning sickeningly. For a split second, all sight, sound, smell, and feel vanished, and for a nanosecond, Sam believed she had died. And then the world righted itself.

She was no longer in the cavern with the spiders.

She was lying flat on her back, something very cold and smooth pressing against her back. It was metal, her analytical mind decided. For one brief moment, Sam thought she was free. She struggled to sit up, but almost immediately she was stopped dead. Her hands were cuffed tightly to the table, along with her feet. She jerked savagely against the restraints, but the only purpose that the action served was to reopen the wounds on her wrists. They began to bleed again, crimson droplets dripping off of her fingertips and to the ground below.

Deimos appeared beside her. He was shaking his head almost sadly as he watched her struggling on the table.

"It's no use. You'll never get free," he promised, pulling off his hood. Then he looked down at her, and her blood ran cold.

Crimson eyes gazed down at her, the irises shot through with black. The pupils were vertical, like a cat's, and deep within their empty pits, she could almost hear a keening howl and a dark chuckle.

"I said you were afraid of me," he crooned, stroking her cheek again.

She turned her head and bit at him, her teeth latching into his skin. She tightened her grip as tightly as she could, and after a second she felt something snap. Acid flowed into her mouth, scalding and burning her. She automatically let go, gagging and spitting.

Something smashed into her cheek and she felt the bones of her jaw, cheek, and nose break. She screamed, although she immediately regretted it as bone grated against bone and razor-sharp shards pricked through her skin. Swimming through a red haze of pain, Sam turned her head just enough to see what had hit her.

Deimos's face was a mask of cold fury, his eyes blazing. His fingers tangled with her hair and he yanked her head up until she was looking directly into his eyes.

"I hope you realize you will pay for this," he said quietly, his voice deathly calm. "I thought I made it clear that you shouldn't fight; that what will happen will happen, and there's nothing you can do to stop it." He snarled and slammed her head back down against the table. Again she heard bone crack, and darkness threatened to engulf her. For a second she thought she would lose consciousness. But then the world came back into focus.

Deimos had returned and he was holding a sheathed knife. The handle was ornately carved bone, strange runes and symbols etched into the glowing white hilt. He drew it slowly, almost reverently, from its sheath and examined the blade carefully. The edge was serrated like ocean waves, with more of the strange runes running the length of the blade. Deimos's fingers caressed the strange knife and he smiled as he gazed at the weapon.

He sighed. "This is going to hurt," he warned. But he didn't sound sorry. In fact, he sounded just the opposite. He sounded excited and almost gleeful.

Sam watched in sick fear as the knife rose above her body and then plunged downward. She felt it pierce her skin like a warm butter knife does butter, felt the moment the iron tip touched the table on the other side of her body. The knife was lifted out of the wound slightly, and then began to cut upward, slicing through both skin and her shirt.

She was being dissected alive.

She fought to control her mounting panic, tears of both pain and fear threatening to cascade down her cheeks. She was breathing still, but barely, with each breath coming in as a ragged gasp. She could no longer feel or remember anything but fear or pain. It had become one with her.

The knife halted at the base of her sternum, and it slowly emerged. A shallow line of fire that slowly oozed warmth ran from the middle of her stomach to her lower chest and, although it hurt like nothing else, Sam could also tell that the creature had managed to avoid every single major organ. Deimos looked down at his prisoner and smiled again.

"Oh, don't worry, it'll take you plenty of time to bleed out. Much longer than normal, thanks to the venom the spiders injected into you. We'll have plenty of time for some fun." Sam quivered, but whether it was from fear, anger, or pain she wasn't sure. "Now, what would you like to continue with? If I keep rooting around in there, I risk killing you too quickly. So, arms or legs?" Sam refused to answer. "Answer me!" Deimos screamed

Deimos lashed out, striking Sam's left knee cap. She felt it shatter, bone fragments piercing her skin, while others sunk deep into her muscles and tendons.

"Answer me." This time Deimos's voice was deadly calm. Sam locked her jaw and refused to answer, ignoring the new assault of pain. "Very well," Deimos finally said. "Have it your way." He smiled sickeningly.

For the next few hours of her life, Sam held no reference of time. All she knew was the sound of her own screams, pain so intense she sincerely believed that she would die, and the sadistically gleeful smile fixated on Deimos's face.

Slowly, inch by bloody inch, he pulled her apart and cut her open. Muscles were cut away from bone, and bone was carved slowly into tiny slivers until the marrow was bared. She was literally skinned alive. She had never known what an organ sounded like as it was ripped from the body. She hadn't ever really wanted to, and she prayed she never would again.

Finally her voice gave out, and she was left screaming soundlessly. The only sounds left were those of her own body being torn to shreds and Deimos's seemingly displaced chuckles and murmurs.

Throughout the entire time, though, he left her face intact but for the first smashing blow to her cheek. She didn't know why but in one way she was thankful. In another she found it oddly disturbing.

Finally, Deimos spoke.

"Did you know that a human can survive having their heart torn out? In fact, they live long enough to see it still beating in their murderer's hands." He smiled his bloody grin, and then his hand darted downward.

And then the world seemed to somehow shift again. This time it was different than before, though. The colors surrounding her didn't begin to bleed together and run. Instead, it was as if other colors were attempting to filter through a veil. Vague images and shapes seemed to draw nearer, as if another world was beginning to cross over into the one in which Sam was existing. Next came sounds – shouts and humming, beeping and the whine of machines.

Deimos stepped away from her, his eyes wide. When Sam glanced at him, it was as if the iridescence had been leeched from his eyes and the energy sapped from his body. He was cringing away from the light that began to build, his bloodstained hands stretched out in front of him as if to protect himself from a vicious onslaught.

And then the darkness faded away, taking the table along with it. For a split second longer, Sam remained trapped between the two worlds. Her last vision was of Deimos snarling and lunging for her, anger and hatred raging across his face.

And then he was gone. He was gone, along with the pain.

No, that wasn't quite true. The pain was still there, but it was no longer unbearable. In fact, as the room around her began to come into focus, the pain continued to fade, as if it were being gently washed out of her body like a cleansing river.

She closes her eyes for a moment to block out the light. It feels unbearable, as if something long denied her is suddenly being shoved down her throat. Instead of simply blinking, though, she slips into a deep, dreamless sleep.

She awakens slowly, feeling drugged and lethargic. She blinks her eyes open slowly, feeling as if the weight of the world rests on her eyelids alone. A gentle sigh escapes from between her lips and she looks around, feeling peaceful, and yet still afraid of what she'll find.

She's in a place she knows; a place with gray walls and low ceilings, with a few dim lights blazing overhead. Somehow the light doesn't seem so bright anymore. A steady beeping sound pierces the fog that seems to have cloaked her brain and once again, this feels familiar – right. The bed creaks as she shifts slightly. A numb sort of pain whispers through her neck and she stills, afraid that, if she moves too much, she'll somehow reawaken the burning agony of before.

"Good morning camper," a cheerful voice chirps off to her side. She frowns, slightly confused. Isn't that voice supposed to sound…different? Echoing and far-off? She twists her head to the side, and finds her gaze drifting over a sleepy looking, yet smirking Colonel O'Neill.

"S-" she tries, but her throat constricts and she chokes on her words.

"Here," he says, and half stands up from the plastic chair he's sitting on. He picks up a small cup and fills it with water from the pitcher of the bedside stand and lifts it to Sam's lips. She's a little surprised at his kind gesture, not to mention his mere presence, but gratefully accepts nonetheless and sucks up the cool liquid, reveling in the feel of it sliding down her dry and aching throat.

"Thank you," she manages this time, although her voice still sounds husky.

"No problem," the Colonel replies. He's still standing, his hands shoved in his pockets. For a second, Sam is overwhelmed with an irrational fear at the sight of him standing in that way, a vague, blurry memory of fear rising to the forefront of her thoughts.

"Carter?" O'Neill asks, concerned at the flash of anxiety that crosses her face.

"It's nothing, Sir," she replies automatically, although she knows it's anything but. She'll figure it out later, though, she decides.

"You look tired," Colonel O'Neill says after a few awkward seconds of silence. "Get some rest." And then he turns around and saunters out of the infirmary, whistling something that sounds vaguely like 'Row, Row, Row Your Boat'.

"How're you feeling?" Sam jumps a little, her nearly asleep mind starting at the new voice beside her. "Sorry, I didn't mean to startle you." Sam opens her eyes and looks at her new visitor. It's Janet Fraiser, the new base CMO.

"Fine," Sam tells her. The petite doctor eyes her patient critically, but for the moment decides to accept the other woman's assessment. She catches Sam's quick glance toward the door, and then the empty chair, and smiles.

"Either Colonel O'Neill, Daniel, or Teal'c were sitting with you the entire time you've been in here," Janet informed Sam softly. She smiled at the slight look of surprise on Sam's face at the news.

"How long have I been unconscious?" Sam asked, finally gaining the nerve to ask the question that had been drifting about her thoughts.

"Three days," Janet replied, turning to record the readings on the monitors by Sam's bedside. "And apparently you'd been stung almost a full day before the rest of SG-1 managed to get you back to the SGC."

"Stung?" Sam asked, her mind whirring as she tried to recall something about being stung. All she could come up with was a long, seemingly never ending tunnel, a seething mass of spiders, and a tall, pale man with gleaming red eyes. She shivered.

Janet noticed and carefully tucked the blanket tighter around Sam. "Yes, stung," she affirmed. Seeing Sam's continued look of confusion, she elaborated. "You were on a mission to P4S-671 with the rest of SG-1. You encountered a small group of locals on your way to the ruins you were going to explore, and they warned you about a reptilian-like insect that populated the area. If stung, the victim would experience very intense hallucinations in which they were faced with their worst fears, until eventually one of the hallucinations would kill the person."

Again, blurred pictures sped through Sam's mind, illuminating random bursts of images and windows of feeling.

"You and the Colonel were exploring a more densely forested area of the ruins when O'Neill stumbled upon one of the insects. You saw it just as it was about to strike, and knocked him out of the way, and took the stinger instead. It passed almost all of the way through your neck," she added, shaking her head. "It was a miracle you even survived the initial sting. The rest of SG-1 carried you back to the Gate and home, somehow managing to keep you alive until they got you back to the SGC. By the time the Colonel carried you through the Gate, your heart had stopped and you weren't breathing." She fell silent, and Sam started to drift off to sleep again. "I think you'll find some things will change, though," she murmured, and then departed, seeing Sam's drooping lids and hearing her deep, steady breathing.

"Some things have already changed," Sam murmured just loud enough for her own ears to hear. Never before had the Colonel looked at her that way before – like she was someone to be respected, even if she was a woman _and_ a physicist. That she was an equal.

Slowly, sleep once again claimed her and, as she drifted off into sweet oblivion, she smiled. It didn't matter that she would have nightmares for weeks about her experience. It didn't even matter that she was confined to the infirmary. For she had faced her fears, and had come out alive. For she had her friends, and they were there for her. She knew that now, beyond a shadow of a doubt.


End file.
